The devil's due
by Geloalto
Summary: This is a Harry is sent to Azkaban and betrayed by most of the wizarding world fic. For the rest you just have to read.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: This fanfiction is based on the Harry Potter universe created by J.K. Rowling >Not mine.

Rating: PG13 mild language

Spoilers: All five books (SS/PS; CoS; PoA; GoF; OotP)

A/N: Okay, this is an Harry in Azkaban fic. Hope you like it. Mention of violence but nothing graphic.

* * *

Prologue

* * *

Night has fallen as I looked over what has been a killing ground barely an hour before. 

The night air is cool and I feel its sharp bite very intensely; especially ever since Azkaban. Yes you heard correctly golden Gryffindor boy Harry James Potter has been to send to the most feared wizarding prison on the planet on charges that were so flimsy that my now two year old daughter could have seen through them.

Ah I see, you wonder what all this has to do with myself standing on the edge of the forbidden forest overlooking a carnage never heard of in the wizarding community at least in recent history.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry which has weathered over one millennium has been reduced to a hovel off still smoking rabble.

You couldn't even imagine that this very morning a castle had dominated Hogsmeade village, which although was badly burnt and the surrounding grounds.

The denizens never had a chance to raise alarm as the powerful curse wrought by Voldemort hit, a fire so intense supplemented by the magic of all his followers as he drained them of their magic in an ill calculated attempt to kill me.

However it killed whole family's who had found refuge here as false as it turned out, students, professors…Dumbledore.

I wish I could still hate that old man for all the pain he caused me, for all the misjudgements that caused my life to spiral down into an abyss of hate and self-loathing.

Towards Azkaban for a crime I never would have considered to commit.

For all his knowledge he never seemed to have seen that one coming; me being innocent, on the other hand the old man probably knew all along.

You never could tell with him. I can't imagine that he swallowed hook, line and sinker when faced with those flimsy charges.

That man was a master Legilimense for god's sake. He could see through the most artful lie, not to forget my flimsy excuse of what passed as my Occlumency shield as it was than.

Therefore I ask you how could a man as intelligent and knowledgeable as he ever fall for the lies surrounding my arrest, trial and subsequent unanimous vote of guilt before the Wizengammot leading to my vacation to the island of the damned otherwise known as Azkaban prison.

A foreboding castle atop on a rocky island.

Now, you would say Azkaban wasn't so bad nowadays, wouldn't you?

After all, the Dementors have left for Voldemort.

To this day I honestly can't say which of Azkaban's guards were worse. I met them both.

The Demetors in which presence I always passed out overwhelmed by my earliest childhood memories, my parents murdered by Voldemort as these fiends sucked out all my happy thoughts which weren't that many to begin with or those sick farts aka potion masters brewing and overseeing the administering of magic and mind subduing potions and their good chums the aurors.

One could argue that these people were professionals and would only do their duty.

I beg to differ. As it is the case with most such institution all over the world run by itself with none overseeing the guards the guards played rough.

How unfortunate for the inmates and the wizarding world.

The aurors and their habit to …play with their charges were bad enough. However the two potion masters in charge were indefinitely worse; they liked to experiment with their potions.

Afterall they had many human guinea pigs handy who noticed when one died. No one outside would care even if they knew what happened inside Azkabans wall's; especially not about that traitorous Potter scum.

We were unable to object, completely being at those bastards mercy.

I don't think that the stay under the Dementors tenure could have been worse. At least you knew what to expect, Dementor's weren't exactly known for there creativity.

A view, lucid moments before you were again plunged into the hell what you call your brain.

But if you were an animagus or an Occlumence, yes Snapes skill was quite handy for Dementors, you could escape at least in your head and would not be bothered by any of them. Great use would that skill has been but alas I wasn't that good at it, at least then.

Turning my mind back to that icy cell deep in the bowels of Azkaban in the maximum security block I still can feel the dread when the ministry's own high inquisitor and torturer Cerberus Grim stepped in one day after I presumably had been at Azkaban for at least a year.

His parents, if he wasn't simply a demon, childish I know but well its still fitting must have either had a premonition when naming there son or a very screwed sense of humour.

In my humble opinion it was the later; Cerberus guardian of the Netherworld and the grim, omen of death.

At this time I was thoroughly subdued by the master's magic suppressing potion.

Even if it had worn off I wouldn't have been able to defend myself any way. I didn't have my wand.

You see every witch and wizard needs a wand to actually work magic or though I thought than.

Which was a fact my best friend, note the sarcasm here, Cerberus was going to change that bit not that he ever was going to be aware of that fact.

But why was this outrage done to me well let me tell you my tale.

How it all led up to this day five years after my imprisonment and the defeat of Voldemort. I will collect off what is left of that Gryffindor boy and tell my story, for a last time.

So let's start with a trial.


	2. The Trial

Disclaimer: This fanfiction is based on the Harry Potter universe created by

J.K. Rowling Not mine.

Rating: PG13 mild language

Spoilers: All five books (SS/PS; CoS; PoA; GoF; OotP)

A/N: Okay, this is an Harry in Azkaban fic. Hope you like it. Mention of violence but nothing

graphic.

* * *

**The trial**

* * *

"Harry James Potter", the voice of the judge or should I say Minister Fudge, bungler extraordinaire, rang out silencing the whispers

flowing through courtroom ten and bringing my disoriented thoughts back to reality. Or as far back to reality as my beaten body,

courtesy to the aurors, would allow me. The trial of the century or the biggest farce depending on your point of view was about to come

to an end. Soon to be known as the bleakest day in recent wizarding history and incidentally also the bleakest day in my short miserable

life but listen to Fudge. Listen what he says, "You stand accused before this committee of good and true witches and wizards, for the

vilest, the most heinous crime possible, murder." Drawing a theatrical breath he continued, "The murder of your only remaining blood

relatives." Really a career change would do that man a world of good. As an actor perhaps or do a Lockhart and write books no one

needs. Oh wait even Lockhart had more talent as a wizard than Fudge. At least Lockhart could do an effective obliviate. I doubt that

Fudge could pull off even a levitation charm and those are first year material at Hogwarts. Well I am slightly predjudiced, but I digress.

His theatralics would have been funny if my freedom wasn't on the stake.

His narrative of how I supposedly killed the Dursley's was sickening. I could have screamed myself hoarse at the injustice of it all if I

could. Afterall its slightly difficult if some bastard had planted a silencio on you, a silencing charm if you please. "…Waiting until his

relatives were deep asleep he snuck up in his cousins bedroom first, killing him with a Dark cutting curse." Well I really could hit myself

over the head Dobby style for trying to use that one on the Death Eater who had incidentally entered my home rather my relative's

home. It never felt like home to me. To cut through the heart, that masked bootlicker disarmed me and hit me with a stunning spell. I

surmise that he proceeded to take my wand and killed the Dursleys afterwards. Suffice to say they were neither quick nor clean deaths.

Aurors told me this in not so many words, taunting me as they would succumb to their darker nature, frustrated that I wouldn't yield any

information, not even under veritaserum imagine that, increasing the dose until I nearly died on a body lock down. While at the

authorities tender mercies I never was able to feel sorry for my relatives. It is rather hard if every bone in your body is hurting

like hell while your stomach is rebelling because of several healing potions which had been forced down my throat on a regular basis to

keep me alive and sound enough to repeat the procedure the next day.

Surprising really, that they even bothered to get me back to health considering that I was a Death Eater to them, never mind that they

couldn't ever found me marked. They checked on a daily basis, as if such a thing would simply appear. Don't get me wrong I never

bore the Dark Mark nor would I ever in my darkest moment consider it. Hello, big evil Dark Lord had killed my parents. One of these

intellectually challenged should have noticed that one. But back to the crime as Fudge got into detail of how the scene of crime had been

discovered. Funny thing is that Blood wards, errected by Dumbledor, should have prevented the Death Eater to enterat all making this

stunt impossible; well it wasn't the first time old Dumbles had miscalculated. And as this trial and the following events showed it sadly

wasn't his last or most grave mistake. But enough of this now I might tell you some at a later point of time. The blood wards

were the only reason which made it necessary for me to live with my despicable blood relatives. Our relationship had been very clear

defined. They hated everything to do with magic, that included obviously me, and I learned to ignore them over time; the neglect and

the verbal abuse. As a child I was hurt by their behaviour however over time that changed into pure contempt, I figured that these poor

excuses of parental role models were not to be taken serious, especially after I was "rescued" by my Hogwarts letter. Over the years I

went to Hogwarts it changed further to the point were I didn't care anymore how they treated me or what happened to them. But please

understand I never wanted them dead. What did it matter that I had to return every summer when in a few years when I would turn

seventeen, I would be finally free of them forever.

Well one could say that actually happened just not in the way I anticipated it. I was relieved of their presence permanently.

Note the sarcasm here. Well obviously Voldemort thought it would be rather altruistic of him to send a Death Eater to attack my last

living relatives and killing them off and most importantly framing me for the murders. Well what do you expect he is after all a

shizophrenic. Ruining my life forever is the pinnacle of his success, his purpose in life though t o speak. Don't get me wrong this doesn't

change the fact that as a good Dark Lord he wanted me dead in the end. However, I have no doubt the knowledge of the wizarding

world digging its own grave pleased his sense of sadism very much. I wasn't going to escape him, afterall Azkaban is a pretty well

known location which wasn't as impregnable as it once was thought to be. Several prison breaks in recent years have seen to that.

When the alarm sounded and aurors started to appear I was quickly enervated by said Death Eater. Disoriented I grabbed for my

wand he so generously offered me before he apparated away. I made the most stupid mistake. Befuddled as I was I stood up and

moved my tired body towards Dudleys bedroom, my head must have connected rather hard with the wall because I felt dizzy and every

bone in my body hurt. I lit my wand wit a lumos and what I saw made my breath catch in my throat as the pungent stench of fresh blood

and emptied bowels hit my nostrils. My sight might have been blurry though I could still caught enough details for my overimaginative

mind to draw the picture. Through a haze, I heard voices downstairs drawing nearer as the aurors run up the staircase. I couldn't react,

could only stare at my cousins mangled body. I didn't react as the aurors finally reached me and I was being hit by a stunner for the

second time this night. The rest is history though to speak. I woke up in a small holding cell complete with a mattress of straw and a

sanitary arrangement consisting of a bucket in a corner charmed to empty once used. Unfortunately the room would still smell of a rather

unsavoury privy. But what luxury, at least it got the illusion of a window. At least I could see the sun. I found out it was illusionary when I

was desperate enough and try to escape right after Dumbledore's fatefull visit. Suffice to say the outcome was rather humiliating. The

aurors had a good laugh.

Those had been convinced of my guilt from the start and never looked any further, nevermind that veritaserum didn't quite point in that

direction. In their opinion I had a motive, my blood relatives abuse and neglect for instance, and the opportunity, namely my wand.

When I pointed out to them that I was in possession of my wand for almost exactly six years and therefore their reasoning had a few

holes it earned me the first hand experience of the meaning of "police brutality".

If I had any hope in the beginning that Albus Dumbledore would get me out I was brutally disabused of that notion when one day before

my trial he suddenly swept in to the interrogation room a stern Madame Bones in tow, the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, looking

grim. The usual annoying twinkle in Dumbledores eyes was missing. I felt dread flooding my stomach and sour bile rise as the realization

hit me. Dumbledore is convinced of my guilt. It was as if an abyss would appear out of nowhere and swallow me whole. Dumbledore

wouldn't save me this time. I was alone. I didn't react as he gave me the whole song and dance of how I disappointed him, how I had

let down my parents, my friends, my deceased godfather Sirius Black and the Rest of the wizarding world.

He ended it with the words may god have mercy on your soul. With those words, the last ones he ever spoke to me he broke my wand

and I suddenly felt the urge to laugh. Not in joy you understand, but as in completly hysterical as all the implications of this single act hit

home. I laughed till tears started to pour out my eyes and I ended in hacking painful sobbing. My minders must have thought I finally lost

it as they escorted me back to my cosy cell. How could Dumbledore do something like this? Why didn't he believe me? Why didn't he

even try to speak with me? For all his supposed wisdom his susceptibility in this case never ceases to amaze me. I doubt I will find out

his reasons ever. I couldn't care less now. But than and there I felt as if my heart was ripped out. I knew what this meant. I was going to

be tried and found guilty of the triple murder of my own relatives, I would be convicted and sentenced for life to Azkaban. I would never

see Elena again, my muggle girlfriend, my lifeline and the only reason why I didn't fall into depression after Sirius dead. She would never

find out what happened to me.

But back to the trial, I was sitting again on that strange chair in courtroom ten though the chains wouldn't bind me of their own. However

four aurors actually remedied that slight problem giving me a friendly cuff over my head which made flashes of light appear behind my

eye lids and as a bonus they put a silencio on me.

Despair held my heart as I knew that the head of the Wizengamot would stand against me and of whatever the opinion of most wizards

and witches on the council might be, I doubt that even one would stand for me when the great Albus Dumbledor threw his protégé to the

wolfs. However I wouldn't let this despair rule me. I swore that I wouldn't give them the satisfaction to see me crumble. After all I

wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. I would look them proudly into the eye showing that I won't be cowed when they would lead me to my

final destination. Such was my conviction. What I didn't expect however was that the trial was public. Almost all my school mates with

there families had come. They had to enlarge the courtroom for that one. Hope rose again. As I listened to Fudge expound on why I

should be put away for murder. "Look at him, how he is sitting in this chair proud and unrepentant…"

Even if I had been able to respond I wouldn't have dignified that with any comment. Even so a silent snort escaped me and a smirk crept

over my face while I tried to focus on Fudge.

Which was rather hard considering that I didn't weare my glasses. I hadn't since the day before my relatives were killed. I had left them

on my bedstead when I headed for the bathroom though my wand is always on my person. Though when I encountered that Death

Eater I might have had my wand but without my glasses I failed to aim properly. Another point my dear interrogators didn't pick up on.

Really, how could a blind bat like me supposedly have been able to kill the Dursleys in such a precise manner? They didn't like it either

when I helpfully pointed that one out. Tenacity is a valuable trait in an auror I'm sure. However if it isn't coupled with at least the brain

power of a bacterium, it is miht be a tad bit unreliable. As the trial continued the hope that at least my friends would stand by me

dwindled to nothing. I sat ramrod straight, my face set in stone, as one after another of my friends gave testimony on my character. " He

is an attention seeker who puts everyone around him in danger." (Ron)

"He almost led us to our doom when he broke into the ministry." (Neville)

The string went on and on Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Mrs Weasley my surrogate mother even Mrs Figg the old squib who

babysat me when I was a child.

After some time everything blurred. I only wanted them to stop. Suddenly a stiff breeze wafted through courtroom ten making hats fly

through the room and pulling on robes. I didn't know were this wind was coming from at the moment. I welcomed it unconsciously as it

expressed what I couldn't; anger, despair, betrayal. However, only moments later old Dumbledore had saved the day once more and

with a wave of his wand stopped the wind, considering his slumped shoulders it might not have been as easy as it seemed. Suddenly I

too felt very tired finally slumping in my seat only being held up by its chains.

Finally Fudge asked the Wizengamot for their verdict. "We have come here to pass justice for a crime so heinous that there could be but

one answer. Incarceration for live. However, considering the age of the defendant and the service he did us when he vanquished You-

know-who as a child we should show some leniency. Therefore the degree of sentence should be reduced to sixty years imprisonment

on the isle of Azkaban instead of a live sentence. Members of the Wizengamot, who are in favour of imprisonment on the isle of

Azkaban for sixty years, please raise your hands." Fudges sanctimonious voice cut through the whispers he didn't even ask if someone

believed in my innocence.

Depressingly every member raised her or his hand at least as far as I could surmise without glasses. I didn't have to see Fudges face

clearly his voice conveyed enough of the glee which must have shown on his face. "Harry James Potter, for the murder on your blood

relatives, the Wizengamot sees fit to show you some leniency for past services towards the wizarding world and sentence you to only

sixty years imprisonment on the isle of Azkaban instead of the well deserved live sentence. Convicted do you have anything to say to the

high court?" As the silencio hadn't been lifted yet I could only glare until a imperceptible nod prompted one of the aurors to lift the curse.

I collected myself before I spoke, "Fudge, you think this a great political move to stay in office. However, mark my words you will come

to regret that you ever had put an innocent in prison." I pointedly ignored the screams of outrage which suddenly filled the air and

Fudges hysterical "Guards, take the prisoner away." However, before the guards were able to do more than grab my arms and loosen

the chains something else happing, making me weep for my last remaining friend.

Suddenly, using the commotion to her advantage a slightly blurry figure made her way down from the stands directly to a point between

myself and Fudge. It was Hermione Granger, I only could recognize her from the way she moved, well and that bushy hair of hers.

She moved very close to me so that I could see the mingling trust and sadness in her eyes mixed with the same sense of betrayal for our

former friends I felt but above all an assurance which I couldn't trust, not than anyways, everything would be fine in the end. Nothing will

ever come between our friendship. Surprising me and my minders she flung herself at me crushing me in a desperate hug slipping

something small in my hand.

Suddenly I knew what she wanted to do as she stepped away from me again. I wanted to scream, telling her that this wasn't worth the

sacrifice she was going to make, However I was silenced once again. Before another concerned auror could touch her and drag her

away from me she turned around facing Fudge in his high-seat five paces in front of her eyes ablaze. She had to crane

her neck to look at him. The words that followed would burn themselves into my brain forever. Holding her wand out for everyone to

see she pointed it at her temple her eyes glaring hatefully at Dumbledore and Fudge softly she begun to speak, yet her words carried

through the court reaching everyone, freezing them into place. "I Hermione Granger, true friend of the betrayed renounce henceforth the

wizarding world. May your actions haunt you forever, traitors. Obliviate" Her wand clattered to the floor as her face turned

expressionless her eyes vacant. For a second everyone was to shocked to move. Until one auror had the presence of mind to portkey

her toward an abandoned alley somewhere in London.

They couldn't chance for her to come to her senses after she had purposefully erased her memory of the past seven years. She wasn't a

witch anymore, not in their eyes anyway. I heard the outcry of my exfriends and surrogate family, screaming at me, blaming me. I

however was far to shocked to take any more notice of my surroundings. I hardly noticed as a special authorized portkey was pressed

into my hand and I was whisked away to my new home; the Fortress of Azkaban, the deepest hole, in the middle of nowhere. Having

been force-fed the magic suppressing potion, not that I could much without a wand at that point, I was thrown in to a dark, windowless

cell containing the obligatory bucket for my sanitary needs and a rather flimsy mattress with no hope of ever seeing the light of day again

as this cell didn't have a window; after all we are talking about solitary confinement for sixty years.

There wouldn't be much left of my personality if I ever got out, even the most antisocial person would go mad here. However Hermione

had given me some hope again or should I say a determination to pull through it all, to stay sane for my last friend. I held tight to the small

piece of paper she had slipped me. Hermione had scribbled something on it.

My glasses still gone and fluorescing mould does in no way constitute to a reading lamp I still could decipher it with difficulty when

holding it close to my eyes and the wall were my light source grew. Two simple words I could found their "FRINDSHIP FOREVER".

Than it burned. I started laughing as the last bit of physical warmth I would feel for a long time to come vanished. However the message

left a warm feeling behind and the strong sense that Hermione wasn't as much out of the world as I might have thought.

I can't imagine for the smartest witch to drop out of the Wizarding world forever.

Wizarding world beware, here be monsters.


	3. Ruminations

Disclaimer: This fanfiction is based on the Harry Potter universe created by J.K. Rowling Not mine.

Rating: PG13 mild language

Spoilers: First five books (SS/PS; CoS; PoA; GoF; OotP)

A/N: Okay, this is this my third chapter of devils due, I'm sorry for the wait. It ends with what might constitute as a cliffhanger. However i will endeavor to update a little sooner this time.

* * *

**Ruminations**

* * *

The stars are shining and night has fallen, as I painfully and disoriented regained conciousness with what seemed like the mother of all migrane attacks.

One moment I was unconcious the next I'm wide awake. Where am I? Why am I laying next to a heap of what looked like a mixture of old rotten things of which might have been food once or broken furniture.

While I couldn't make out my immeadeate surroundings I could surly smell it. The stench is unbelievable. Predomnating were rotten meat and oddly enough old socks. Suddenly a crash and screeching startled me as Alleycats squabble over leftovers noisily. I realized that these furry demons were probably the reason for my rude awakening as every high pitched screech send waves of pain through my brain. I can hardly move without aggravting my head more. Slowly I sit up looking around and promptly fell back down as my head kept spinning.

Slowly after hours or minutes my perception returns to almost normal and the hammering pain in my skull subsides to a dull throbbing, bearable but irritating. I carefully start takeing note of my surroundings.

Nothing much to look at actually just your run of the mill dark alley. A sliver of light brightens the end of the alley and those few lit windos above me were barely sufficiant to see more than odd shapes and forms which I didn't dare to look at to closely. Slowly slightly deeper thoughts return to my mind with a vengeance.

On the forefront questions like; What the hell am I doing here? Everything is blurry. I feel my heart speed up as a suddenly a much more disturbing question gripped my heart. WHO AM I? A word floats through my head as I start haltingly towards the end of the alley; Amnesia.

Tentatively I touch my head trying to find the wound which might have caused it. However, my hands came up clean. As I desperately try to remeber the events which had landed me in this miserable situation.

Heck, I would have been glad to just remember my name and maybe that of people I must have known. Even if I was one of these people who cultivate enemys, which I dearly doubted. Malfoy! Echoes ominously through my head and I shudder in fear shortly followed by a raging storm of hate.

Hate for what this name represents. Though I was rather clueless of what this might mean there was just this raging burnng hate. As if this Malfoy person had grieveously wronged me or someone close to me.

What kind of name is Malfoy anyway?As I walk through awfully semifamilliar streets another name appeares in my mind. London. I am walking the streets of London. Without realizing it I silently whistle a tune under my breath. I suddenly remember the song "Streets of London" written by Ralph Mc Tell came unbidden to my mind. How trivial! But the memorys which also arise from the big dark abyss called my mind are hurtfull. It was my fathers favourite tune. Was ... the past of to be...similar to gone... both discribing actions which can't be reclaimed. Sadness grips my heart as I drop to the pavement and start to cry for no apparent reason. My usually so remarkable memory failed me phenominally. I do not understand why I feel so sad all of a sudden as the night air is chilling me to the bone adding to my emotional discomfort. No matter I can't move.

Suddenly I am startled out of my dark reference by an angry growling from what seemed like the thoughest cat I've ever seen (well as far as I can remember anyway). He is absolutely gorgeous in the light of a nearby streetlamp I can see his coat red tigerstriped a bottle brush for a tail. His face is scrunched up permanently as if he had been punched one time to many. I feel like I have seen this cat before. He rubs his head against my leg as cats are prone to do. Smiling brittily I start carding a hand through his coat, which he seemed to enjoy as it starts to purr. It also soothed me a little. As I scratched him behind his ears my fingers came into contact with a piece of paper stuck behind the cats collar. Something tells me that I should read it. Curiously I turn it slightly so I can make out the words written on it in the dim lamp light:

**Look for the CAT of the green eyed one. **

**She will be found in the house of the rising sun. **

A Midsummernights dream

PS: Follow the cat

Damn now I'm even more confused. What should I do, what should I do. Suddenly my new (old?) friend the cat is getting agitated. Abruptly I stand up.

The message had almost opened the door behind which my memorys were slumbering. But now it was firmly closed again. I sigh in frustation, crumbling the note in a fit of rage. The cat sprints a few steps ahead, stopping once in while to make sure that I was still following.

For hours and hours we walked through London or though it seemed and my mind was still on overdrive. While I walked I sometimes spot strange people in fancy dresses, man and woman alike, talking animatedly in twos or threes. They all have something in common. Names are whispered two of which they speak of in utter contempt. But the other person they seem to fear beyond reason.

But honestly what kind of name is You know who anyway. I'm almost tempted to sneak up on them and ask "Who?" just to see their faces. Somehow I feel that would be a bad Idea. There gazes unseeingly travel over me but do not touch me its like I'm invisible to them.

A new feeling adresses itself to me joy and pride. As if something I have done had worked out as it should. Once I placed myself in their middle but their gazes still wouldn't acknowledge my presence in any way. They can't see me even though I walk by close enough to touch them easily if I had a mind to. Well I tweaked in the arm once a red haired gangly boy, I don't know why he made me feel so utterly betrayed. He yelps and looks wieldly around. But he and his friend's still cannot see me. I hear them whisper about that impossible lying and murdering Potter brat his poor family ...why didn't anyone see it sooner? Murdering scum and now he will be rotting in Azkaban until his last dying day. A shame really that there were no Dementors anymore. At this point there was a muted whisper of „But what about You-Know-Who? Who will defeat him this time around"

Why defeat him mocked one, look what you get if you introduce scum like that mudblood Granger to our society. See how she still fawns over that mad potter boy. And to top it all the stupid cow went of and obliviated herself. Which just seems to show that dirty blood like that halfblood Potter and his tart of a mudblood lover have no buisness in our vaulted society.

This makes me angry though his companion did react faster whipping out a slender whippy stick and after a gutteral uttered word electric blue sparks seemed to jump from said piece of wood stricking No 1 square in his overly large chest. The effects were immedeate. The dress no 1 wore folded in on itself falling to the ground in a heap.

Squealing hystericall he hops around in circles trying to cover himself up with his hand to the entertainment of his acquaintances. Taking pitty on him number two reversed whatever he had done.

A disgruntled meow reminded me of my impatient, egotistical guide and with a start I began following him again. He stays closer to me now almost as if he wants to protect me from something. The brief almost encounters with these strange people had rattled me more than I wanted to admit to myself.

Names started to swirl in my mind. Voldemort... Harry Potter ... Hermione Granger the first one made me shudder in fear though something deep inside me told me that man can't reach you anymore.

Those other names filled me with rage a desire to hurt anyone who slandered them. It seemed as if I couldn't get a grip on my emotions and my mind resembles a white wall with some nonsensical graffitti someone had spread over it with phrases and slogans which if I could only align correctly would make perfect sense but alas that hypothetical dunderhead of a would-be artist in my brain apparently didn't know logic if it bit him in his nose.

I stumble further through the city following that cat, pardon tomcat. I checked you know and got scratched for my trouble combined with one of those reproachfull, indignant stares only cats seem to manage.

Making me feel like the fool I aparently am. Why else would I follow a strange cat through the seedier parts of London. I instinctively knew whatever protected me from these weird strangers in ...dare I say it robes... wouldn't protect me from your run of the mill criminal. However it seemed as if I was in luck for once.

After hours of walking the bloody cat finally stops infront of a rundown building, a bright green neon signs revealing it as **'t e hou of the ri ing sun'** or presumably the house of the rising sun.

The street is equally unlikely to invoke feelings of ...safety. I suppose one could call that street rundown.

Every second lamppost has been vandalized and in the sparse illumination one could see grotesquely warped shapes; rats overturning trash cans. Well they weren't that much smaller than that bloody cat who sat on the top of a short staircase leading to my destination, looking smug and quiet pleased with himself. The wind turns and I catch the pungent mell of sewage.

I shiver suddenly the setting reminding me terribly of some some trashy muggle horror movie (muggle what to hell is a muggle). Absentmindly I ring the bell, a electronic buzz could be heard somewhere inside the house.

Uneasilly I turn around glancing up and down the street not that it would exactly matter if some unsavory thugs had attacked me, I was defencless. Waiting for the landlord or lady to open the door I feel hopless. But before the hoplessness of my situation could really hit home, the door behind me opens. However, as I turned around I suddenly feel a white hot pain in the back of my neck whithout the time to feel panic I sank into unconsciousness...again.

**Island in the middle of the ocean**

**Azkaban Prison**

**Cell Block E High security ward**

Cell Block E. I was told the capital E stood for eternity. Once in no one ever leaves. Alive that is. Which unfortunately would be true if one considered that "The High Lord of Hell" otherwise known as Potions Master Cerberus and his two leering henchman, supposedly aurors, were doing such a fine job in restraining the inmates.

Gilbert „cracking" Grubbs and Eddard „laughing Eddie" Shrub were two masterpieces of guards, as nasty as they come. They thrive on pain. Other people's pain that is. In my humble opinion they really have missed out on a very rewarding career as Death Eaters. Well maybe they are smarter than I give them credit for. For while its true that one gets to wiedly spread pain around, Voldemort too likes to visit other people with pain and he doesn't seem to care if his victims are followeres or not. I should know afterall I happened to see him quiet often in my vision. He didn't seem to care if I saw anything of use or not. He didn't even send me false visions anymore figuering the truth would hurt me more afterall I didn't have anyone to tell anymore. I tried, believe me I did, however my warnings were as wind to my guards. I earned myself a trough cursing several times. After the third or fourth I never told again. It didn't help anyway.

There really wasn't anything funny about laughing Eddie as I found out on my first night in my cell, he told me or rather demonstrated exactly how he got his name. Lets just say Eddie loves causing pain; lots of it. Preferably with his hands which slightly resembled the paws of a big grizzley or a trolls. Causing pain in others is the only way to make him laugh. Though he was rather careful not to kill or maim. Afterall only the living and moderately healthy had the cababillity to suffer and such becoming fascinating playthings. Sometimes I wonder who is more perverse Voldemort or Laughing Eddie. I can't tell you how often I wanted to just fall asleep never to wake in the very first week of my stay in Azkaban prison. As time passed it became increasingly harder not to get pushed down that abyss called madness…insanity…. Slowly everything became slightly blurry, as the magic suppression potion I was forced to take, was taking hold. However, when everything started to become to much I remembered Katherine my sweet Katherine, muggle though she was. Katherine laughing as she playfully snatches my wand running away starting a game of catch. Katherine sleeping in my arms trusting that nothing bad could ever happen to her. Sometimes I remember my true friend Hermione what would have befallen her as she was struggling through muggle London, without memory. She was alone out there now. Her parents having been killed by Voldemorts henchmen. It still throws me how they could have found out the Grangers hiding place.

When I feel particularly down I remember my archnemesis and rage grips my heart giving me strength to withstand madness a little longer as I think of what would happen if Voldemort actually wins. Don't get me wrong I don't give a rats arse of what happens to most of those I once called friends. They can do without me. I was just a weapon to them. The moment they perceived me as flawed they cast their little weapon aside like trash, killing my love for them and the wizarding world in general. Moreover they killed my will to fight for them and so a conviction blossoms in my heart, saying „I will survive. One day I will get out of this hellhole maybe not tomorrow but maybe the day after or the week after that." Then there came a time when Azkabans security measures were refined.

Almost six months after I had been imprisoned they found a way of how to mirror the effects of dementors. At least they hadn't quiet found a way to bring the inmates permanently under its spell. They weren't powerful enough for that. However the few odd hours a day here and there they managed were sufficient enough in our weakened states. All I could do then was grasp for the fleeting moments of sanity, though Snapes Occlumency exercises helped slightly. I even could cancel Voldemorts vision out.

However this little victory last long.Well I think I have mentioned before that Cerberus, Commander of Azkaban also was infamous for his experimaental potions and so many guinea pigs on a silver platter and no one to supervise him. And as a special treat in dumb and dumber two devoted henchmen. This triumvirate actually managed what years of dementors weren't able to do. They broke everyone. First they as good took our magic, not a very pleasant feeling I can tell you. The magic is not really lost you see, just locked away inside your body. If one could only find the keys. And the hope or should I say the delusion of someday finding the key and breaking those chains that bound us, in the end bound us tighter than any chain wrought of steel. Aproximately a year after my imprisonment everything changed.

One day Cerberus and a potion master unknown to me strode into my cell as if they owned the place. Well after a fashion Cerberus did but you know...I've been vegetating in this cell for about a year now... it was MY cell. He gestured his two henchman to restrain me which they did. The stranger faded into the background. For a second I mistook him for a dementor. He was cloaked in black robes and the cowl of his cloak was drawn deep into his face. After a brief upraisal I dismissed him as unimportant especialy because Grinning Eddie was in the process of wrestling me down. By now I've learned its best to stay as impasive as one could; it annoyed dumb and dumber the most. The more one struggled the more pleaure they got out from restrainig you. In the end they would win anyway while you ended up with brocken bones.

„You see this...," Cerberus cackled maliciously „This little beauty here..." He waved a small vial gleefully infront of my face while Grubbs and Shrubs his two hulking henchmen had me kneeling infront of their master, arms painfully distorted on my back so I couldn't twitch a muscle without being in severe pain. „it will make sure that you won't be able to do magic ever again." If possible his cackle became more evil while I broke out in a cold sweat. I tried to glare outraged at his assumption though I lacked the strength. "we prepared a special batch, spawn of a mudblood...didn't we, Master Sinister?." Surely, surely the ministry wouldn't stand for that. Surely ..."Oh you think those fools at the ministry know what I give my little guinea pigs. They think its just a little piece of medcine to curb your agressions. Well in theory they are correct though it's only a side effect. ," he wheezed spittle landing on my face ...yuck...though I couldn't care less at the moment „but you see..the real beauty of this little potion my friend and I developed is even when you are ...released..." his cackling grew more manical and gleefull if that was even possible „You wouldn't ever be able to use a thread of magic again. It destroys your ability to use magic. You even won't be able to feel it anymore. In essence you will become a muggle." Peering in these fathomless empty ...evil eyes I tried a last time to defy them but in my malnourished state I was quickly restrained, my chin almost broken as they forcefully poured the burning brew down my throat. They let me slump to the ground were curled up in white hot pain, screaming my throat hoarse, as I felt the infernal potion doing its job until mercyfully everything went black as unconsciousness claimed me. One thought fleetingly flashed through my brain now Voldemort really has won. Even if those Order fools would finally manage to get their heads out from were the sun didn't shine and started to notice what has been so obviously before their eyes all along I would be no use to their cause anymore…Kat…

* * *

AN/ I guess you have figuered out who charcter Number one is. In the next chapter you will find out more of what happened to Hermione and why none of those strange people could see her. You also will find out what that potion did to Harry. 


	4. Freedom in Death

4. Freedom in Death

Mist wafting over the rough Nordic sea. The muggle ferries wouldn't dare cross the Minch today. And very few magical Ferries either. However her craft braved the the storm wrought sea steadily. A small sense of pride nickeled in the back of her mind as Hermione contemplated the shear power of the enchantments she had woven around her craft herself. Not even the three sisters would be able to sink the „Vendetta" now.

Finally the day was here she would get her brother back and than Good bye Britain, Good bye wizards war. Let Voldemort scorch the British Isles she had nothing to live for here anymore anyway. A bitter laugh escaped her when remembering her excitement when she first got that fateful letter telling her she was a witch. Blessed childhood. It had hurt taking her leave from her parents and the one true friend she had at that time.

She had been so exited seeing Diagon Alley for the first time...Hogwarts ... friendship that would last forever or so she thought. A rueful laugh escaped her as she stood in the bow of the small ship heading steadily straight for Azkaban. Now eight years after entering the magical world the sugar coated veil hang in tatters before her eyes. Something had died the day when her parents died at the hands of Death Eaters while Fudge still had denied the return of Voldemort and the existence of any remaining followers. She had lost her believe in the grandfatherly figure of Albus Dumbledore Headmaster of Hogwarts shortly afterwards when he, Harry' s mentor actually proclaimed Harry guilty of murdering his remaining relatives. She had lost the believe in her onetime boyfriend Ronald Weasley when he proclaimed that he had always known that his best friend was treading a fine line between the dark and light and had finally crossed that thin line into eternal darkness. She had lost her believe in the wizarding world when these sheep bawled for their one time Saviour's head without the barest whisper of a clue to Harry's guilt.When arguing her case to those she trusted most, they wouldn't help. She decided to cut all ties permanently and in a way that ensured that she would never be detected by said magical world. Only those enclosed in the charm were able to see her now. A very short list. Two in fact. Her brother in mind and someone very unlikely. Someone who used to hate the very idea of Harry Potter. Their co-conspirator and tentative companion.

Her mind slipped back two years; when she had denounced the wizarding world for good while they shipped of her best friend and brother in mind to Azkaban. Her wandering through the streets of London and the confusion when waking up in the house of her best friend.

Awareness came to me slowly as I swam in this big comfy sea of light my thoughts moved sluggishly in my head, lingering a little moment longer in that state between sleep and fully awake. I felt ...content. For the first time in what seemed like eternity. I was completely aware of the fact that I only needed to open my eyes to pass the threshold to full awareness. I felt movement somewhere close by and a whispered yet heated argument. A door closed and sharp steps removed them self from the room. A cool yet gentle hand came to rest on my forehand drawing me back to consciousness. As I opened my eyes I ended up staring into a pair of peculiar golden eyes. „Hush, Hermione. Don't fret you will understand soon" the owner of those eyes said gently like she was trying to calm a frightened child ...or someone who had lost the memory of who she was. A glass of what was supposedly water was pressed against my parched lips. I tried to speak but a firm yet not unfriendly „Drink!" turned my mind to the very important task of drinking my fill. To late I notice the uncanny taste of ...something sharp running down my throat. I screamed as a burning sensation ran down my throat into my stomach were it spread through my whole body. I started fighting against arms that were trying to keep me down. „Hermione , calm down you are hurting yourself. All will be well." That traitorous cow crooned. ...Yeah as if, I thought unfavorably as I started to drown in darkness once more.

The next time I woke was different as anger suffused my blood. „Emily Kathrine Woodwork " I screamed, „What the hell were you thinking..." Oh yes I wasn't thinking to favorably about my best friend besides Harry Potter at the moment. That cow forcing a potion down my throat without a by your leaf, the utter gall. I deftly dismissed the minor fact that this actually had been part of a plan she and myself had cooked up with the help of non other than my sour potions professor Severus Snape ...the only other person who believed in Harry's innocence. Bright musical laughter wafted through the room as Emily walked into my room and proceeded to throw open the curtains with alacrity. Harsh morning light fell upon my face as the window is flung open as well. Street noises filtered up from somewhere outside honking cars and chatting passerbys. I glared mutinously at my friend as she plopped down besides Crookshanks on the bed. Which was the only seat available in the sparsely furnished bedroom. Oh yes I remember everything again. Harry's supposed crime which I know he couldn't have done. Being much to gentle a soul for a deed as amoral as this. Besides he had opportunities en masse before that and much less incriminating ones if he had really planned on offing his only living family. On top of it all it had been the second to last summer he needed to stay there anyway. It really didn't make sense. They didn't listen, the headmaster fell for the aurors codswalop hook line and sinker and everybody else followed hard and fast. If I didn't know any better I would say everybody has been put under a mind controlling spell or potion. Sadly I know better I checked them, especially Dumbles. Until the very last I had hoped that someone would cry out „jinx" but no one ever did. On top of that there was Emily. I don't know how it happened but one day before fourth year had started I introduced Harry to my best friend since the nursery even though she is two years my senior. By the end of our fifth those two were a couple. It seemed as if they had always stayed in contact. They were very secretive. Not even Snape found out in his Occlumency lessons with Harry. Which I had found odd at the time but now I know. It had been a spell Harry had cast upon himself to protect his muggle girlfriend. When I passed on the news of Harry's arrest Emily went ballistic. After calming her down I proposed a plan, a foolish plan with slim to no chance of succeding but beggars can't be choosers. A plan which would free me from any scrutiny I might receive from Dumbles and his bandwagon of sheep or should I rather say chicks. „Hello again, Hermione. How are you feeling," Cat broke my trail of morbid thoughts. „Your memory is recovered, I hope? No side effect's, no blanks?" she asked a little anxiously her voice to bright to cheerful almost brittle as if being on the brink of tears as I knew she probably was. Looking a little closer I notice big dark rings circling her eyes.

She hadn't been particularly happy about my cooked up plan to begin with. „Do you have anything to drink?" I rasp hoarsely ignoring her question for a few seconds longer as a glass of water is handed to me and I greedily swallow the liquid. Has my memory returned in full? „I think so.", I volunteer eventually. „I feel like I've been run over by a dra...truck." Cat's eyes narrowed dangerously. „If I were not as concerned as I am I would say you deserved every bit of that headache you are sporting right now." My eyes grew wide in surprise. How did she know. „And don't tell me your fine when I can clearly fee...see when you are anything but." Perplexed I open my mouth to retort. However, the desperate expression of her amber eyes stopped me. The moment she had found out about the wizarding world she had lost her boyfriend to an unjust system of blundering idiots. To think I wanted once to be part of that society made me shudder in disgust. No more of that. I have irrevocably renounced the wizarding world. I will never be a part of that world again. The last spell I had cast with my old wand made sure of that. It didn't strip me of my magic like these idiots thought I had done, no, nothing that dramatic. It simply made me completely invisible to the wizarding world unfortunately it made me temporarily helpless although while robbing me of my memory. The last missive to Harry acted like the Fidelius Charm keying Harry in to my secret without having to tell him. I only hoped that Harry was able to read it."No, you are right." I finally choked out „ I lost my best friend on top off my parents death. And the one I loved shredded my heart by betraying our best friend. But there is no time for self pity. We have to plan of how to get Harry out of that hellhole." A slow smile began to spread around Kat's mouth. wizarding world beware. You won't know what hit you when we have finished with you. „Got a plan already, have you? Come on mistress of the library lets hear it. maybe I the mistress of intuition and strategy should show you how its done." Smirking I turned my head to my best friend as we started plotting.

Two years later a boat softly landed on the dreary coast of Azkaban. Wind blew over the bare rocks as it carried smell clean salty sea infested with the stench of despair. It almost seemed as if the breeze carried the screams of Azkabans prisoners with it. She shook her head as if to chase these ridiculous thoughts away. However, she didn't quiet manage to shake her unease completely as she drew her black cloak closer around her body and gingerly stepped onto the shore. Cold water splashed in to her boots, which might have been impervious from below, but water splashing up to her knees still get her socks wet with icy! water. Suppressing a shriek and a curse she stiffly walked onward, venturing to what passed as the cemetery of Azkaban. Quickly she made her way to the freshly made grave. A roughly hewn headstone said Harry Potter one time Saviour now a traitor hot anger shot through her veins as she started to dig. She didn't use magic but a good old muggle shovel lest she upset any wards detecting the use of magic which might have been placed here. Hermione might have been invisible to the wizarding world in general however her target was not. A soft thud announced she was almost done. Now she only had to break open the coffin, done...now she only had to seal the grave behind her again. As she hurried back to her boat she silently saluted those lazy nitwits of Azkaban guards that had placed those convenient featherlight charm on her burden which had not worn of yet. Which made it rather easy to get her burden into the boat without using magic and no one the wiser. Gently she put Harry in the bow wrapping him in blankets though Harry wouldn't be feeling much for some time to come. Quickly the dreary Isle fell behind her as the „Vendetta" proudly parted the waves. Tomorrow the wizarding world will find out that their fallen hero had died, buried. Which probably wouldn't cause them to big a headache at the moment. But soon those fools will clamor for someone to save them. Whispers of the dark lord being alive slowly begun to get louder. Soon Dumbles would have to make his move.

After Cerberus had forced the core destroying potion down my throat it took me some time to recover. It took me even longer before I noticed that somewhere along the line Cerberus had made a mistake. For quite some time I lay despondently in my dreary cell without noticing its passing. Grubbs or Shrubs sporadically bringing something which passes as food here and with luck some water which I consumed mechanically. When staring to long at the wall I slowly became aware of pulsing lines which seemed to merge into some kind of a net with several odd swellings, like knots. A very big one surrounding the keyhole of the cell door.

Sometimes I see these lines surrounding my gaolers too especially when about to cast a spell. They seem to me like an angry red mostly as the curses rush towards its intended target. One of these times when Grubbs send one of his cruciatus curses my way I really realized what I saw. Magic. Angry red and black lines of magic seeking out my nervous system, setting it aflame. In desperation I hoped for it to stop. Suddenly, I still saw the curse ripping through me however I didn't feel anything anymore. Grubbs held the curse a little longer before with a satisfied grunt he turned around and with a last parting kick he left me alone for the time being. Exhausted and confused I than fell asleep. Over time I realized that I could redirect magical energy in small quantities. I also realized that magic wasn't only in the walls of the prison which were positively aglow with them. A cold glow nonetheless which seemed to absorb every bit of warmth in the cell. Small glowing particles of magic hung in the air before they were drawn towards the wards; after all they were magic and the wards attracted magic, leeching it. Sometimes I tried to collect these small glowing specks myself forming it into a ball of some kind or whatever my mind came up with. Mostly the faces of Emily and Hermione. There were times when it showed me Emily holding a small baby girl in her arms laughing as she blew a raspberry at her. Than she would turn her head as if she actually could see me and tears would fill her eyes. Come back these eyes said. Come back to us. We miss you. But I couldn't. One of these times rage fills me and I start attacking the Knots of the ward. Somewhere in the bowls of the castle a magical siren is howling. Alarming the guards. Madly I try to destroy the wards however they would not budge...there a knot unravels. Now another ... and another... and here they come. Spells fly as I try to absorb them, change them. However soon Grubbs and Shrubs are ringing me to the ground. Not much ringing involved on my part here actually. Suddenly a vial is pressed between my lips, a whispered spell made me swallow the content. Agony pure and simple. As I wake up I'm in a big white room similar to Hogwarts hospital wing. The strands of magic here are calming to my mind the specks of magical „fyreflies" not solely drawn to the walls. Rather dancing like a swarm of mosquito's in summer. There was also that bothersome buzzing noise associated with angry bees. However, what concerned me most was Cerberus. That permanent smirk didn't quite bode well for me. It didn't quite help that Master Sinister was standing behind him a vial of some violet potion in hand. „Now, now what ever did you try to do? Bringing the wards down ?" he spat spittle flying left and right. Where is an umbrella when you need one ? „So, you are one of those pesky little wielders now. Who would have thought that Harry Potter would have the ability to become one?" He agitatedly walked up and down. Making no sense whatsoever. „However it will be of no use to you." he prattled on „ Because Harry Potter will cease to exist tonight." A cold shiver runs down my spine. That's it. Cerberus has had enough with his little toy. I struggle against my bonds as I try to call the fireflies to me in which I'm only partly successful as Cerberus and his ilk are distracted Sinister hand reaches out with one hand holding my head while his other hand forces a potion down my throat for the second time in the space of a few hours. It grows cold ...so cold ...Can't breath...

I woke up with a start in a comfy bed motes of magic playing in the air undisturbed by any kind of wards. Something doesn't fit how did I get here. After all the last thing I remember is getting fed a supposedly lethal potion. Well it wouldn't be Cerberus first mistake. Even if I would dismiss the evidence of that nice room the lack of wards and especially the feel of this place were a dead give away. Everything in here screamed home, safety. On second thought there were wards. I could see them when squinting just so. They were powerful wards, dormant until an attack occurred. Then these wards would roar awake and destroy any threat. I doubted even a curse breaker would notice until to late. The door opens a gasp and quick steps rushing to my bedside „Hermione, quick he's awake..." A stray thought of Cat and I was out again like a light. Damn that's getting repetitive. The next time I awoke someone was sitting by my bedside which almost caused an immediate panic attack; Master Sinister.

„Potter if you can't control yourself make no mistake I will do it for you!" Came the crisp voice of no other than my favorite ex-potions professor Snape which didn't quite alleviate my misgivings. After all that man was the same who had a less than stellar record of forcing some rather nasty potions down my unsuspecting throat. So I did what I supposed what would annoy him the most without being force fed potions. I smiled. „Yes, Master Sinister." I answered meekly. It might actually have worked as the intake of breath and slightly widening of his eyes clued me in however his magic behaved still rather sluggishly not yet in a state to attack. „Potter ... I warn you!" he growled out. Before either of us could say anything the door opened and in stormed Cat my beautiful Emily. I try to get up however I getting entangled with those damned bedsheets I fell head over heels out of bed right in the waiting arms of Cat. Damn my weakness as Cat helps me back on my bed settling down beside me Snape snarled. „Potter you have to be careful. You will be weak for some weeks to come now until your magic settles again..." „What, wait I thought my core..." „Was destroyed? Honestly Potter. Some people actually believe anything..." „But Cerberus ..." Does not know anything of what he is tinkering with. The first potion masked your core as if you never had been born to be able to do magic." „Though, it was no more than a suppressor potion?" „Basically yes. So one you need an antidote for and if under its influence for too long you would indeed be rendered a squib." At this Harry paled considerably "Let me guess you forced that one down my throat when I tried to dismantle the wards around my cell." „Basically yes, I would have given it to you earlier however I couldn't return before Cerberus had to invited me. I would have given it to you under one pretense or an other, anyway. However, you provided for a nice distraction.""How could I manipulate magic or see magic anyway?" „Ah I thought this might be the case when you recognized me as Master Sinister. Those obscure texts alluded to the fact that if the condition is prolonged your brain starts to search for other ways to use magic. However this ability is hereditary and lies mostly dormant. Very few develop this ability unaided, like Morgana, Dumbledore, the dark Lord. Though these abilities are not very well known. Only very few people were under the potions effect for any prolonged time. Even fewer developed the ability's of a wielder the other turned out to be squibs" I didn't know if I should scream or cry however wanting some more answers I forced myself to remain calm. „How did you know that that ruddy potion didn't render me a squib anyway?" I pressed out. Smirking Snape leaned forward only inches away from my face„Firstly I would have made sure I would have given you the antidote early enough. There still were at least three months left before that potion would have left you with some real damages. And secondly lets say I've made an educated guess." Before I could respond in any way Snape had stood up in one flowing motion almost reached the door his smirk became rather sadistic after delivering one last parting shot „After all your daughter has shown signs after being one month old. Seeing that her mother is a muggle, I think it was rather obvious were she got that ability from." With that the door fell shut with a bang leaving me sputtering.


End file.
